Happy birthday darling Fay @thesleepiesthufflepuff!!! You are such a ray of light and a joy to know, and I am so so so grateful to be able to call you my friend. You deserve the whole world, but I hope this fluffy little thing inspired by Clodagh and her jammies will suffice. Wishing you the happiest of birthdays and all the puppy snuggles today.
Harry paced restlessly up and down the hallway as he waited for the dog trainer to arrive. It had seemed like a good idea at the time — Dog needed to be trained, and No Bark, No Bite had the highest ratings in the neighbourhood. Harry had been full of hope as he’d filled out the online form, visions of long walks with his faithful companion swimming through his head. It had all come crashing down, however, when the confirmation email came through.
“Draco Malfoy will see you at 10am on Wednesday morning.”
So here Harry was, contemplating whether he could just live with the fact that Dog refused to go outside so that he could escape the doom that was fast approaching.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like Malfoy anymore. No, he quite liked the git now that they had all grown up a bit and let bygones be bygones. The problem was quite the opposite, really. Because Malfoy — Draco — was smart and witty and charming and fucking fit. And Harry knew Draco worked with animals. Knew his job was in Harry’s own neighbourhood. And now he was coming here to Harry’s house and he’d know that Harry was fucking incompetent — and a liar, because Harry had told him only three days ago that everything was fine and he didn’t need help with his new puppy but thank you very much.
He was so stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.
-----
Draco chewed on his lips as he walked up the path, once again questioning the wisdom in taking this job. He should have handed the client on to Cassie as soon as he saw the name. Should have packed his bags and move to another country. Because now he had to work with Harry and be professional. Had to pretend that the mere idea of Harry with a puppy didn’t make his insides melt.
He sucked in a breath and knocked on the door, relaxing minutely when he heard a faint crash from inside followed by colourful swearing. At least he wasn’t the only one who was nervous.
Harry opened the door, his hair even more wild than it was on pub nights. A tiny black puppy crouched behind him, eyeing the open door in fascination but making no move to step outside.
“Potter.” Draco held out his hand, determined to remain professional. “How can I help you?”
-----
A disaster. It was all a terrible disaster.
Draco had stayed barely half an hour before declaring he knew the problem, but wouldn’t be able to fix it today. He had almost run back down the street, as if he couldn’t stand to be near Harry any longer.
Harry knew he was weird and awkward, but he thought he’d had it vaguely under control that morning.
Sure, he had a dog named Dog. Well, Dumbledog, at Teddy’s insistence, but even Harry wasn’t strange enough to go around calling the poor little thing by her full name. And yes, he couldn’t work a normal job like Draco did, and yes, Dog was largely purchased with the plan to train her as a therapy dog to help him with his anxiety. And yes, he was so fucking gone on Draco that he could barely string two sentences together.
But that didn’t mean Draco had to run away, did it?
He could only hope that he would be able to hold himself together better next time they saw each other.
-----
A disaster. It was all a terrible disaster.
Harry had been so sweet and so concerned about his dog, all of Draco’s heartstrings had been stretched beyond their limits. And he had a dog named Dog of all things, which Draco would have laughed at if it had been anyone else. Instead it was Harry, and Draco felt all stretched out and upside down. Like nothing in the world could ever be the same now that he had seen Harry cuddle a tiny, wriggly ball of fluff named Dog.
So here he was, a tangle of yarn in his lap, knitting needles in one hand and instruction book in the other. Because poor Dog was cold and there was only one thing he could do when faced with a puppy who refused to go on walks with Harry Potter due to the cold.
Learn to knit doggy jumpers.
-----
Harry was baffled.
“So, Dog was just cold?”
“Yeah,” Draco replied, tucking Dog’s paws through the front legs of her new little jumper. “Hopefully this is enough, but we might need to get her booties too if her feet are sensitive.”
“They sell booties for dogs?”
“The Muggles do, yeah. They’re quite sweet, actually.”
Harry blinked. Had Draco just called a Muggle invention sweet?
“Could we not just use a warming charm?” Dog looked very sweet in her jumper, but Harry couldn’t help be confused by the fact that Draco hadn’t immediately turned to magic.
“Oh, Dog is allergic to warming charms. I checked last time, but you were so worried about her I didn’t want to say anything until I had a solution.”
“Oh.” Harry could only stare at Draco, silently willing his expression into something acceptable. “Thank you, Draco. That’s very thoughtful of you.”
This man was going to be the death of him.
-----
This man was going to be the death of him.
“Dog is allergic to warming charms,” he muttered to himself furiously. “Honestly, Draco, could you have been any more obvious?”
He sunk into his couch, running his fingers through his hair. He didn’t know how Harry hadn’t seen right through him, he hadn’t even tried to hide how stupidly in love he was.
Love. Fuck. He loved Harry Potter and now he’d lied to him and fucking learnt to knit for his dog and…
There was only one thing left to do.
-----
“So she needed the booties, then?” Harry blinked sleepily at Draco, who had turned up unexpectedly while Harry and Dog were having a nap.
“Well, she seemed to walk happily last week, but I thought it was better safe than sorry. How has she been?”
“She’s been great! I think the jacket has really helped, thank you so much.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I’ll leave you to it then.”
Draco began to walk away, and Harry made a snap decision.
“Wait! Did you want to come for a walk with us? You know, to check on Dog’s progress?”
Harry was an idiot. A sweet, bumbling, adorable idiot. And Draco was a fool.
Dog had loved their walk, prancing through the fallen leaves and chasing squirrels as far as her lead would allow. Harry, however, had looked positively miserable as his eyes watered and his nose streamed and his fingers turned blue.
“I told you to bundle up, Potter,” Draco had said, only half of his old sneer coming through.
“I put an extra sweater on!” Harry had exclaimed, as if a sweater would keep his extremities warm.
“What about a hat? A scarf? Some mittens?”
“Oh,” Harry said, tilting his head in thought. “I don’t think I own any. Gave them all to Dobby.”
“Potter, Dobby died ten years ago.” He’d tried to be soft, tried not to snap at the foolish, stupid man beside him.
“I guess I just didn’t think about it.”
And so now Draco was awake at 2am, for the third night in a row, knitting furiously.
-----
“And I thought he’d just bought the little sweater for Dog, and I thought it was sweet that he’d found booties that matched. But…but these all showed up on my doorstep yesterday, and they all match Dog’s things, and I don’t know what it means.”
Harry sat on Ron and Hermione’s couch, head in hands, a pile of knitwear on the floor in front of him. The hat, scarf and mittens had been on his front step that morning when he and Dog went for their first walk of the day. There hadn’t been a note, but the yarn was so distinctive. They could have only come from one person.
“Harry.” Hermione spoke gently, as if she had something important to say and didn’t know how Harry would take it. “Why would Draco buy Dog a sweater instead of just using a warming charm?”
“He said Dog was allergic to them. Said he checked on his first visit but didn’t want to worry me.”
Ron made a strange choking noise before excusing himself to the kitchen.
“Harry, charms can’t cause allergies.”
“But…why would he buy her a sweater then?”
“Harry…” Hermione looked at him softly, as if pleading with him to figure out what she already had. He looked again at the bundle of yarn on the floor, at the uneven stitches and slightly lumpy shapes.
“He didn’t buy them, did he?”
Hermione grabbed his hand. “No, Harry. He didn’t.”
“But, why?”
Ron’s voice came from behind them. “HE’S FUCKING COURTING YOU, MATE.”
-----
Draco trudged up Harry’s front path. He’d promised himself after last time that he wouldn’t be back, but he’d gotten a text from Harry that morning asking him to come over.
He’d tried not to hope, tried to ignore the warmth swelling in his chest.
If Harry had figured it out, surely he would have said something before now. After all, it had almost been a week since he’d dropped off the knitwear.
He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the door opening, but he couldn’t ignore the exuberant ball of fluff jumping all over him. The exuberant ball of fluff wearing…a knitted bow tie?
“She was meant to give you this, but she was too excited to wait for me to tie it on.” Draco looked up from Dog to see Harry standing in front of him, a timid smile on his face as he held out a small roll of parchment. Draco took it tentatively, eyes flicking back to Harry as he unrolled it.
My owner is an idiot, but some would say that makes him cute.
Will you go out with him? Dog is optional on dates.
Harry rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet as Draco read and reread the scroll.
This was a terrible idea, he should have bought flowers or whiskey or-
Draco dropped the scroll, his face unreadable as he stood. Harry opened his mouth, unsure of what he was going to say, but then it didn’t matter because Draco was reaching for him and cradling his head and kissing him.
Maybe he hadn’t been so stupid, after all.
